


Love You, Goodbye

by apinaplaa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Idiots, Love You Goodbye - AU, M/M, Sad Ending, larry oneshot, that's it they are bloody idiots and we all know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apinaplaa/pseuds/apinaplaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's left hand is resting on his hip, and it fits into the curve so perfectly that Louis has to wonder if it was made especially for holding him. Harry and he have fit together like that from the start. Two pieces of a puzzle, made to stand together, but what happens when the other pieces get lost and you can no longer see the bigger picture?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This work was (as you can probably tell from the title) inspired by the song Love You Goodbye by One Direction, and is dedicated to my friend Eva ( abby_97 ) .  
> Eva, thank you for everything, I probably wouldn't have finished writing this oneshot if it weren't for you! Sorry you had to wait so long!
> 
> Also, a speciall thanks goes out to Caitlin who edited this thingie, and has truly been so amazing!

It is late November, the time of the year when you spend your days lying to yourself that it is still autumn, when everything around you is practically screaming at you that it's clearly winter. By the time Harry Styles gets to his apartment building night is already falling, and he's getting cold in his too-thin jacket. He passes a large moving van that's being loaded in front of the main entrance thinking curiously about who is moving out. Perhaps it is the corgi man from 10B. Harry could swear he heard something about the old geezer finally deciding to check into a retirement home. Not that Harry has anything against old people, he quite enjoys their company to be honest, he just doesn't particularly like being called a fairy every time he runs into the man in the hallways. Despite it all, he has to admit he'll miss the three corgis if their owner really does choose to find a new home for himself.   
Relieved he is finally inside again, Harry makes his way through the lobby, greeting Kirk the doorman as he passes his desk. The graying man offers him a small smile in return, and for a moment Harry thinks he detected sympathy on his face. That is ridiculous of course. Why on earth would the doorman try to sympathize with Harry? He is going through some shit right now, yes. But if that were the case then the smile should have been there for days, weeks even. And yet this was the first time he had seen it. He eventually decides not to ponder on it any longer and gets into the elevator instead. As soon as he is inside he presses the button with a glowing 18 on it and leans against the elevator wall. He automatically checks himself out in the mirror opposite him, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. He straightens his shirt and unbuttons one more button beneath his jacket, before he remembers there is no one he needs to look good for. No one is waiting for him to come home. Not anymore. He sighs pushing his messy hair out of his face. He will probably never get used to the feeling of emptiness he feels whenever he remembers that Louis and he are no longer a thing. That Lou is temporarily crashing at Zayn's. Has been for over a week now.   
The elevator comes to a stop with a loud ping and then the doors are opening and Harry pushes himself of the wall and into the hallway. Their ap- his apartment is the one with a small brass 18A next to the door and Harry heads towards it immediately. He pushes the key inside the lock, taking an extra moment to mentally prepare himself to face an empty apartment, before turning it and stepping inside.   
To his surprise the lights inside are already on, the smell of tea filling the air. He stands there baffled for a moment, because he doesn't remember making tea before he left, nor did he leave the lights on, and then he sees him.   
Louis is standing in the living room facing the huge windows, his iPhone pressed to his ear. He seems to be mid conversation and doesn't even register Harry entering.   
"... Yeah, that sounds wonderful. They should be there in half an hour if the traffic's good..." he can hear Louis speaking, but he honestly couldn't care less what the conversation is about. The whole situation just feels so familiar - so much like home - that all Harry wants to do is sneak up to Louis, hug him from behind and never ever let him go again. He makes it halfway across the room before Louis turns around and, oh, wow, he looks gorgeous. Not that Louis doesn't always look gorgeous to Harry. The man could be wearing sweatpants and one of those god awful t-shirts that seemed to swallow him whole, with his hair sticking in all directions and dark circles under his eyes and yet he would still be the most attractive man Harry has ever laid eyes on. But this. This is a whole new level of beauty. Louis is wearing a tailored navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. His quiff is styled perfectly, his facial hair just long enough to make him look older and just short enough to still pass as elegant. He is massaging the bridge of his nose with his free hand, eyes shut and posture relaxed.

"Ok. Cheers, thanks again. Yeah, I'll see you soon. Bye." he finishes before opening his eyes and ending the call. He looks up and for the first time since the younger man arrived, his eyes find Harry.   
Harry expects a smile, a hug, a kiss and a promise that things are going to go back to the way they were.   
He gets none of that. Instead Louis tenses up and keeps looking at Harry as if he hadn't expected, nor wanted to see him. It is in that moment that Harry notices the stack of taped up boxes lying on the floor next to the couch. And all of a sudden it all makes sense. The moving van, the sympathetic smile, the conversation and the shock on Louis' face. Lou hasn't come back home, no, he came back to get his things and leave for good. Harry understands that now.  
"H... Harry. Um hey... I... um... didn't expect you to be here" Louis breathes, suddenly very interested in his shoes. "Zayn said you'd be out..." he murmurs more to himself than to Harry and, god, when had Louis gotten so nervous around him? Louis who knows everything about Harry? Louis, who is loud, and cheerful, and almost painfully flamboyant? Louis who is now stumbling over his own words, uncomfortable and shy? When did everything go so colossally wrong?  
Harry swallows, suddenly finding his throat awfully dry. He can't stand looking at Louis so upset. When he finally speaks his words are directed more at the wall than at his partner.  
"I wasn't feeling that good..." it's at least kind of true. He was supposed to go out for drinks with Zayn and Liam, but cancelled at the last minute, sending them both a text saying he was feeling sick. In truth he didn't want to go, because it was Thursday, and Thursdays have over the last few years become the unofficial double date night. Since Louis wasn't going, Harry thought there was no point in third wheeling. It would just be another painful reminder that for the first time in almost six years Harry was single. And he did not need that, thank you very much.   
Louis must have somehow got the real reason why Harry didn't go out with their friends, however, and now had a guilty look plastered all over his face. He cleared his throat as silently as he could.   
"Look, I'm sorry. I should have called. I just thought that it would be easier for you... for the both of us, if we didn't have to see each other..." Louis says, sounding less nervous than before but still tense.  
For some reason his words make Harry angry. He wants to make it easier? None of this was ever easy, why should the walking away part be any different? Did Louis really think that sneaking away while he wasn't at home would make things better?  
"Oh you mean like if I came home and all your stuff was gone? Like you never even existed? No goodbye, no nothing? Sure that'd make things a whole lot easier!" Harry spits out, words dripping with sarcasm. A part of him regrets it immediately, just for the expression of hurt on Louis' face. Another part thinks, _good, let him suffer. Make him feel as shitty as I do right now._ __  
"Harry you know it's not like that. I just... I didn't want to hurt you any more than I already have."  
Harry lets out a hallow laugh at that. The sound leaves a bitter taste in his mouth as he continues in an almost hysterical way "You know, it's funny you should say that. And like, I wanna believe you, but then again you are walking out that door!"  
It's harsh. The break up wasn't all Louis' fault. It had been coming for quite some time and a part of him had always known it. And yet, he feels betrayed now, and cheated, and bitter, and angry but most of all he feels so fucking sad he could probably start crying and wouldn't stop for days.  
This seems to be exactly how Louis is feeling too. He has taken a step further away from Harry and looks close to tears. He closes his eyes again, breathing in deeply and holding his breath for a moment before exhaling.

It helps him collect himself a bit and when he speaks again his voice is pleading but surprisingly calm. “Harry don't... can we just not do this again? Can we not. Fight. Over this. Again?" He drags the hand that isn't still clutching his iPhone through his hair and Harry realizes just how exhausted Louis looks. It is as if the conversation is draining the life right out of him. Leaving him emptier by the minute.  
Harry feels a pang of guilt rising in his stomach, making him feel sick. When had he become so nasty towards the older man? Louis is right, Harry can admit that much. They have fought enough, and in the end breaking up was more or less a mutual decision. It didn't mean he liked the idea of it. He didn't like it one bit, but it was for the best.  
"Yeah, you’re right... I'm sorry." Harry sighs. He moves over to the couch, leaning against the armrest. Louis' eyes follow him the entire time.   
"It's all right. I'm sorry too" he says, a small crooked smile just barely visible on his lips. It makes Harry’s heart melt and ache at the same time. It's right there and then that Harry realizes he will never truly get over Louis.  
They fall into silence, Harry sliding down until he is sitting on the couch, Louis leaning against the cool glass of the window. For what seems like an eternity nothing but the sound of the road bellow fills the air. It would be so easy to pretend things are just the way they used to be a year ago. Back when they could both still call this place home. When the silence was comfortable and relaxing. Now there is tension in the air between them. Too many words have been spoken and yet not nearly enough. Now Louis is leaving and Harry dreads the vast empty space on Louis' side of the bed.  
Unable to take it any longer Harry breaks the suffocating silence with the first coherent thought he manages to put together.  
"So you got a new flat huh?" he asks, trying to sound as conversational and lighthearted as he can. It doesn't really work. He knows the answer already, of course. Still, he wants confirmation. Because if Lou has found a new apartment it means Harry will have to stop telling himself that there is a chance that this is just a break. That they just need some time to sort things out. As a last resort Harry was hoping that Louis wouldn't find a flat for at least a few more weeks. Then again Louis has always been good at getting what he wants when he wants it.  
Louis looks up at Harry, no doubt searching for hints that would show that Harry doesn't actually want an answer, that he's just looking for another quarrel. When he finds none he smiles, pushing himself away from the glass.  
"Mhm. Didn't think I'd get it this fast, to be honest with ya. My real-estate agent only showed it to me yesterday. The owner listed it less than a week ago, too. I thought she'd want some time to move out, but she called today and said the flat'd be empty by two pm," Louis explains "Said something about an engagement. I don't know, she seemed nice enough and eager to sell ASAP, so I jumped at the offer. Plus I think Zayn's starting to get fed up with me. He's not saying anything, but he keeps going out for walks all the bloody time. I figured it was time for me to go."  
"You could have come back and stayed here." Harry blurts out far before he can stop himself. He didn't mean to say it, it was stupid wishful thinking, meant only for himself. Baffled he claps a hand over his own mouth, but he is too late. The smile on Louis' face is gone.   
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean that-" Harry begins but is cut off by the older man.  
"S'fine, Curly. I should get going anyway."  
There's that crooked sad smile again and Harry feels like crying.   
"No. Come on, you don't have to go. You haven't even finished your tea." He gestures to the half empty mug set on the coffee table. It's a pathetic attempt but he can't take parting with Louis like this. He knows it is inevitable, but doing it this way just feel so wrong. So god damn wrong.  
"I don't think that's a good i-"  
"Please." Harry is surprised at how desperate his own voice sounds. "Stay. Just for a little while."   
Louis stops mid step, turning around to look at him. His expression is unreadable and Harry can’t take it. He drops his gaze down to where his hands are resting in his lap. "I hate how empty this place feels when I'm alone Lou." he finishes in a barely audible whisper.   
He doesn't expect Louis to stay. Not really. It isn't like he owes him anything. He keeps staring at the numerous rings on his fingers, dreading to look up and see Louis leaving.  
He hears a sigh, tired but somehow fond. Harry doesn't look up, not daring to hope.  
"Fine," Louis says "I guess I can stay for tea." He moves past Harry to pick up his mug and takes a sip, as if to prove he is serious. It turns out to be a bad idea as the tea had apparently gone cold resulting in Louis grimacing and spiting it back into the cup.   
"God, that's fucking disgusting." He curses, heading for the kitchen. "Right, I'm gonna put the kettle on. You good with Yorkshire?"   
Still not sure this is actually happening, Harry nods. He watches Louis retreat into the kitchen, humming to himself something that sounds suspiciously like Purple Rain. Harry scolds himself for how much that makes him smile.   
He reminds himself that he shouldn't hope. Louis won’t stay forever. One thing is crystal clear, this is temporary. After a storm comes a calm. Harry remembers reading that somewhere, probably on one of those motivational posters Liam has hanging all over his bedroom. Well perhaps this is their calm, god knows they've already gone through a storm.  
Getting up, Harry decides that if these are the last moments he gets to spend with Louis, he will enjoy every second of them.  
In the kitchen, Louis is putting Yorkshire tea bags into two mugs. He has already taken off his suit jacket, which is now draped over one of the chairs. He has the sleeves of his slim fit shirt rolled up, exposing the abundance of tattoos covering his arms.   
"Finally decided to get of your lazy arse and help, did ya?" Louis remarks without even turning to look at him.   
Harry thinks about the answer he's going to give. It could ruin things, make them awkward again. Then again it could be just what they needed. In the end he decides to risk it.  
"And here I thought you liked my arse." Harry retorts making Louis chuckle. Bingo, he thinks. He could even swear he hears the older man mutter "I do."

The mood is a lot lighter after that. It isn't quite the same as it once was, but close enough to feel somewhat comfortable. They finish making tea joking around the entire time. The jokes are mostly about the way Louis takes his tea without sugar, which is truly disgusting.   
Camping out at the kitchen table, they swap stories about their week. Louis tells Harry, hesitantly at first but getting more and more excited as he speaks, about how he finally managed to find the perfect lead for the new Mary Poppins musical he is directing. Harry has always loved listening to Louis when he talks about work. Whether he is talking about lecturing at the university or directing a play, he always, without fail, sounds like an overexcited little kid. He often looks like one, too. It's part of why Harry loves him so much. Harry in turn talks about how he got hired for a wedding, which is always a big deal in the photography business. There are loads of people at weddings, giving him the exposure he needs. Louis congratulates him, smiling wide. "Hey, maybe the wedding you got hired for is actually the wedding of the girl who sold me the apartment." Louis says laughing. Harry has to ignore the sharp pain the reminder of Louis moving out sends through his chest. He tells himself that it wasn't meant like that. Louis doesn't mean to rub it in, he's simply making conversation.   
"Yeah, could be." Harry says a second too late, with only half a smile on his face.   
It's enough for Louis to notice. The look he gives him is unbearable, worry blatant in his eyes, nervously biting at his bottom lip. In a single moment Harry forgets all about the moving away part. There is only the _Louis is here right now and he looks gorgeous_ part left.  
Louis nibbling his own lip has always made Harry want to kiss him. He sometimes likes to imagine it is Louis' subconscious way of telling him he wants to be kissed. Harry wants to lean forward, just smash their lips together, everything else be damned. He can feel himself readjusting his position on the chair to get better access. Louis must realize what is going on. He blushes furiously, suddenly trying very hard to look at anything but Harry. The tea is long gone, so the older man hastily gets up, taking both mugs in one hand and heading for the kitchen sink.  
It isn't like Louis to run away from a kiss, not even now. Unless... unless he thinks that the kiss will somehow hurt Harry. Well Harry is a big boy he can handle a bit of heartache. He is going to get that kiss from Louis, one way or another.  
He slowly stands up and walks after him. Louis is washing the dishes, with soapy hands and rolled up sleeves and leaning forward just enough for his pants to cling to the perfect curve of his arse. Harry has forgotten just how good Lou looks in dress pants.  
He moves until he is standing right behind him, hands holding onto the counter on either side of Louis' lean body. Close enough to feel the shorter man's body heat without actually touching him.  
Harry leans down until his lips are barley an inch away from Louis' ear.  
"Why the hell did you have to wear this to walk out on me?" Harry practically growls at him, making him startle. Louis turns around immediately, not realizing before just how close to him Harry is standing. Their faces are now only inches apart, forcing them to look into each other’s eyes.   
"I had a meeting?" Louis starts to say but his words get lost in the small gap between them. Harry takes a step backwards, giving Louis the space he needed to get away. Louis doesn't move an inch. He lifts his hand to Harry's face, tucking a loose curl behind his ear.   
"We really shouldn't." he says sounding more like he is trying to convince himself rather than Harry.

"You're right," Harry agrees moving forward again. He stops only when he has Louis pinned against the counter, the front of their bodies flushed together.  
Harry leans in and pauses less than an inch away, feeling Louis' warm breath on his face, eyes still locked. "We really shouldn't." he whispers before pressing their lips together.  
It's hesitant at first, neither of them really doing anything other than just standing there lips brushing and eyes closed. Harry wants to move, wants to deepen the kiss but Louis isn't responding and that has him locked in place. Then Harry feels an exhale against his mouth that sounds a lot like a "fuck it" and all of a sudden Louis' hands are in his hair pulling him close. Louis gives him exactly zero point two seconds to realize what's going on before he brings his tongue into play, licking and teasing Harry's lower lip. And that is all the invitation Harry needs. He brings his hands up to cup Louis' cheeks, feeling the stubble underneath his fingertips. He tilts Louis' head to the side a bit and opens his mouth, giving his permission. Louis pushes his tongue in immediately, brushing it softly against Harry's at first, but then picking up the pace, sliding it in and out, their teeth clashing as they both try to get more. Harry should probably be tired of kissing Louis after five years but he isn't even close. Kissing Louis is like hearing his favorite song play on the radio, it's special and perfect no matter how many times it happens, and it never ever gets old.  
Louis' hands have left Harry’s hair and are now slowly making their way down his back. Blunt fingernails are dragging at Harry's skin through the thin fabric of his shirt sending tingles up his spine, making him moan into the kiss. Harry can feel Louis' smug smile against his mouth and knows he needs to do something about it immediately. Needs to touch more than just Louis' squishy cheeks. He brings his hands down to the collar of Lou's shirt and starts unbuttoning. He works fast, having done it a thousand times before. Harry manages to do about half the buttons before his patience runs out and his fingers start tracing the tattoo that lies just beneath Louis' collarbone. He feels Louis shudder under his touch, feels him lean even further into the kiss. And Harry knows this. He knows this and he knows he's good at it. He pushes forward and hears Louis' bum bump into the counter. He pushed his right leg between Louis' thighs, only half because he needs better footing to keep them both upright. It's not like Lou is complaining anyway, since he chooses that moment to push both his hands down the back of Harry's pants. Harry realizes that of things keeps going at this pace, he is going to get very hard very fast. One of them is moaning again, but Harry isn't quite sure which one. Honestly he couldn't really care less. He takes another moment to memorize the feeling of Louis’ lips on his own, before he breaks the kiss. Louis protests and clearly wants more but Harry has other plans. He starts pressing kisses to Louis' cheek instead, and then his jaw, and his neck. He comes to halt at the base of his neck and licks a small spot right above Louis' collar bone. That gets a whimper out of Louis, who now has his head tilted to the side, his eyes shut. Harry licks the spot again and then sucks on it. Another whimper. He sucks harder, bearing his teeth into Louis's delicate skin. Louis bucks his knees at that and thrusts his hips forward. And oh god, Harry can feel the bulge in Louis' pants hard against his own thigh. He bites him again and gets another thrust. And yes, Louis is definitely hard.  
The way Harry's hands automatically move to Louis' belt is pure instinct. He has the pants undone before he even stops sucking on Louis' neck, and when he moves away he only takes a second to examine the bright red mark before he drops to his knees.   
He pulls Louis' trousers down to his knees, leaving him in just his boxers.

He presses his lips to the beginning of Louis' happy trail, making sure the kiss is feather light. It has the very much desired effect of making Louis shudder. Harry does it again, this time about an inch lower. Louis' breath hitches at it, his hands shooting back to grip at the counter. I've still got it, Harry thinks to himself smugly as he continues the process all the way down to the ban of Louis' boxers.   
He looks up at Louis as he bites at the elastic, dragging it down just a bit and then releasing it so that it snaps back. Louis curses under his breath. He kicks Harry in the knee as payback. It doesn't hurt and Harry lets out a booming laugh. No matter what, some things never change. When it comes down to it, Louis will always be a little shit.   
The laugh earns him another kick, a harder one this time.   
"You're a fucking twat Harold" Louis says from above, as Harry rubs at his kneecap.  
As a sign of redemption he kisses the place where the band snapped at Louis' skin. He stays there his lips ghosting over delicate skin as he brings his hands up to hold Louis by the hips. He traces his V line with both thumbs, sliding them all the way down to where the boxers start. He can hear Louis go completely silent and he has to move his head back to look at him again.   
Louis has his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and breathing shallow. His knuckles have gone completely white from gripping the counter so hard. Harry loops his thumbs into the fabric of Louis's boxers and Louis takes in a long breath.  
"Wait" he says, his voice high and breathy as if he'd just ran a mile. He is looking down at him, and Harry does his best to meet the strikingly blue eyes.   
"This doesn't change anything."   
Harry nods. He knows that. He knows that in the morning, Louis will be gone. Nothing he does now can change that.  
Without breaking eye contact he pulls the boxers down all the way.

 

~*~

Louis wakes up enveloped in the warmth of another body. Harry's body. Louis doesn't need to open his eyes to know that. He can tell by the way Harry is curled around his back. By the flowery scent of Harry's shampoo that lingers in the air. By the sound of Harry's steady heartbeat. But most of all he can tell by how at home he feels. It sounds stupid, but he's always felt safest in Harry's arms.  
He stays like that for a few blissful moments before his brains starts working properly, pretending that this is still his life. It's easier than it should be.  
Harry's left hand is resting on his hip, and it fits into the curve so perfectly that Louis has to wonder if it was made especially for holding him. Harry and he have fit together like that from the start. Two pieces of a puzzle, made to stand together, but what happens when the other pieces get lost and you can no longer see the bigger picture?  
He pushes the thought away, swipes under a mental rug that already has too many unwanted ideas hidden underneath it. He refuses to open his eyes and break the illusion. Refuses to face the fact that this is no longer his reality. That he chose to leave this behind. He can't do that right now. Because quite frankly he has missed waking up next to Harry and if he can, he'd like to pretend for just a little while longer.   
The damage, however, has already been done. The feeling that he doesn't belong in this bed anymore has settled in, scratching at the back of his cranium. It's so overwhelming that it makes Louis' stomach turn. He forces it down, tries to concentrate on anything else. Tries to force himself back to sleep by sheer willpower. It doesn't work.   
Louis feels like Harry's hand is burning a hole into his skin. The body heat he used to loved basking in so much now scorching hot and unbearable. Suddenly he can't stand lying there for even a second longer. He extracts himself from Harry's embrace and jumps out of bed so fast it's a miracle the boy doesn't wake up.  
Louis takes a deep breath. And then another one. _See it's not so hard_ , he thinks to himself. He's always been good at breathing, been doing it all his life, too.  
He leans his forehead against the cool of the glass wall, (because hey, what's the point of owning an apartment this high up if you don't have at least one glass wall with a view of London in your bedroom).  
It's raining outside, which isn't unusual for London, especially not in November. Still, it somehow feels significant, as if the skies are weeping just for them and the tragedy they have become.  
The truth is, love isn't a feeling, it's a choice. Not many people know that when they are young. That's why you aren't supposed to meet your soul mate when you are sixteen and eighteen. You are too young, too eager to fall in love and not think about the consequences. You don't realize that loving someone long term takes patience and hard work. It doesn't occur to you that one day you will wake up and hate the little flaws that you once found so endearing about them. That you will still love them but that won't be enough anymore and you will realize that maybe you can't make this work. And that's when the fighting starts, if you are lucky. If you are not, there will be silence. Silence louder and more deadly than you have ever heard before. The only screaming that will go on will be inside your head. It will make you hate them and it will make you hate yourself until there is nothing left but pain and sorrow and a bitter aftertaste inside your mouth. Louis and Harry were lucky. They fought, and accused, and eventually found their way out. It was hard, but necessary. Perhaps things would have been different if they met later on in their lives. Perhaps they would be exactly the same. Louis doesn't know and probably never will. And someday somehow he will be okay with that. But for now he will hurt. Because sometimes hurting is the only way.  
So Louis steadies himself and walks into the ensuite bathroom, stopping at the closet to nick some of Harry’s clothes, because he will be damned if he has to do the walk of shame in the suit from yesterday.  
He doesn't shower, deciding that it's best he leaves as soon as possible. He does, however, borrow Harry's toothbrush and one of the (way too) many combs to at least make himself halfway presentable. His perfect quiff is ruined so he lets the hair fall over his forehead. It makes him look much younger than he actually is. That topped of with one of Harry's L-sized sweaters and skinny jeans that Louis has to roll up a ridiculous amount of times in order for them to fit, and he looks like a uni student again. He supposes he can work with that, plus he doesn't really have the time to change again.   
When he returns to the bedroom Harry is still sleeping, and Louis thanks every deity he can think of for that. He likes to think of himself as a stubborn man, but if he ever had a weak spot, it was reserved for the curly boy from the get go. If Harry asked him to stay again, Louis can't guarantee he'd have enough strength to walk out on him.  
He looks around the room one more time, committing the sight to memory, adding it to the list of things he's going to have to learn to live without. He turns his back to it and pulls the bedroom door open.  
"Whatchya doin?" Harry's raspy morning voice comes from behind him and Louis stops dead in his tracks. Breathe in, breath out. Yeah just like that, you can do it.  
"Told ya, this doesn't change anything." Louis says. He doesn't look back.  
Silence. So long Louis thinks it might go on forever.  
"That's fair." Harry finally replies, his voice low. Louis can imagine Harry nodding to himself as he says it, still he doesn't look back.  
"Yeah" _Get out. NOW._

"Lou-" Harry says, making Louis stop again. This time halfway through the door. "- I love you."  
_Don't look back. Don't you fucking look back._  
"I love you to." It's true. And that hurts so bad he might just pass out with the pain of it.   
"Goodbye." Harry says as Louis shuts the door behind himself. He wants to say it back. End it, once and for all. But standing alone in the empty living room, wearing Harry's too big clothes, he can't quite bring himself to do it. So he picks his discarded clothes off the ground and packs them into one of the boxes, before picking them all up and carrying them out into the hallway. And as he drops his pair of apartment keys onto the coffee table next to the door he says the closest thing to a goodbye he can manage.  
"Later."


End file.
